


not NOT romance

by celli



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli
Summary: Their first kiss is embarrassingly romantic. Their first fuck, not so much, maybe.





	not NOT romance

Their first kiss is...it's embarrassingly romantic. Jon leans into Lovett, hands resting almost chastely on his hips. When Lovett curls his hands around the back of Jon's neck, Jon murmurs something, he doesn't even know what, into Lovett's mouth.

Their first fuck is not NOT romantic, but.

Jon slams the door behind them once Leo’s safely out and turns back to Lovett, who is already half out of his Straight Shooter T-shirt. Jon pulls his henley off and - and just stands there, looking at Lovett.

This is a thing. It’s happening.

Jesus Christ.

Lovett, being Lovett, immediately picks up on the slight terror problem Jon is having. He untangles Jon’s forgotten shirt from his fingers and takes his hand. “Hey,” he says, and pulls Jon down for a kiss, progressively filthier as he backs them both toward the bed. “What do you want, Favs? Whatever it is, I’m here for it.”

Jon takes one breath, lets it out, drags in another. “Fuck me,” he says. “Please. Please?”

“Yeah,” Lovett breathes.

They work in more or less tandem to strip each other; Lovett has a sock that will not roll down his ankle and Jon is shaking with laughter by the time he gets it off. Lovett pulls Jon up onto the bed next to him and Jon is overwhelmed, again, by how surreal this all is.

“This is - this is just fucking - “ 

“Why, yes, Mr. Favreau, this is fucking,” Lovett says dryly.

Jon shoves at his shoulder, then drags him in until they’re flush against each other. They both lose the thread as their cocks drag together; Jon feels his eyes roll back a little and Lovett lunges forward to kiss him, openmouthed and frantic.

Desperation and a lot of furtive porn viewing makes Jon turn under Lovett, pull one knee up and splay the other leg out. “Come on, Lovett, goddammit.”

Lovett takes one look down Jon’s body, groans, and drops his head to the pillow next to Jon’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not,” Jon snaps.

“I’m just having a lot of feelings here, Favs, okay?”

Jon is going to give him endless shit for this later. So much later. He smacks Lovett in the shoulder, harder than he really meant to. “Less feelings, more fingering right now.”

“Fewer,” Lovett says, but he’s reaching over the edge of the bed for what had better fucking be lube, so Jon magnanimously doesn’t respond.

Lovett braces himself with one hand on Jon’s chest and slides a slick finger in him, then almost too quickly another, and Jon tries to remember which way breathing works. “Oh, God, Lovett,” he says, and he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, but apparently he’s still talking: “I can’t, can’t believe I have your hands on me, I’m obsessed with your hands, man, you have no idea, just leave them on me forever, Jon--” as Lovett glances off his prostate.

Lovett’s kissing him again, sucks on Jon’s tongue, and Jon puts his hand over the one Lovett’s got on his chest. Lovett adds a third finger and Jon groans into Lovett’s open mouth, hitches his hips closer to those goddamn beautiful fingers.

It’s about a million years from the time Lovett pulls his fingers out and and works his other hand free of Jon’s to grab a condom. He grabs Jon’s hips hard enough to bruise and makes his first thrust in. “How long?” he asks.

“What?”

“How? Long?” Lovett asks, punctuating each word with a tiny thrust. 

Jon is busy, okay, he is having his entire life punched inside out physically and emotionally, and he is not up for this shit, and his face must show it because Lovett stops to laugh (and isn’t that a feeling) and then immediately says “I’m sorry! I mean it, I’m sorry.” He pulls out a little, and Jon whines, and then he thrusts back in and Jon keens, that is the fucking word for it, because holy fuck direct shot to prostate. 

Lovett bottoms out and they both just breathe for a minute. Jon puts one hand on top of Lovett’s where it still clutches his hip. “How long what?" he manages. 

“How long have you been thinking about my hands and, I assume, the rest of me?" Lovett smirks but can't meet his eyes. 

“2011,” Jon says instantly. 

Lovett looks up. “Is there a story there?”

Jon has a flash of standing at Lovett’s old desk, shocked into awareness of his feelings for the first time, and says, “Later, okay?" 

Lovett turns his hand over to grab Jon’s for a second - and then he grabs his hip hard again, and Jon braces himself against the headboard instinctively. 

Not shockingly, Lovett is really fucking good at fucking. He alternates between long, deep thrusts that have Jon rolling his head back to just feel them, and short hard stabs that make Jon swear louder and louder. Somewhere in there he shifts his grip on the headboard so he can get one hand on his cock. 

“Come on, Favs,” Lovett is saying, and then, "Jon,” and Jon is gone, that's it. 

He tries to come back to life for Lovett, who is still fucking him in a way that sends shivers up and down Jon, and finally he gets a hand in Lovett‘s hair and mumbles his name a few times. Lovett swears a blue streak as he comes and collapses on top of Jon. He gets up just long enough to get rid of the condom and then he's back draped across Jon with his face in Jon’s neck. 

Jon figures that in another year or so he'll bitch at Lovett to get off Jon’s leg (which is working up to a painful cramp), but right now it feels good and he doesn't give a shit. “Hey," he says suddenly. "Did you? Obsess about me?”

Lovett shakes his head, burrowing further into Jon's shoulder. Jon’s heart lurches, but then Lovett says, “Hurt too much," and Jon wraps his arms and free leg around Lovett. 

“Feel free to start,” he says in the most normal voice he can imagine, and starts brightly listing off potential objects of obsession until Lovett turns his face up and starts shooting him down, laughing louder every time.


End file.
